Doesn't change anything
by WildMagicIsEverywhere
Summary: It didn't matter. Didn't change anything... Only, it did. T because I'm paranoid. ONESHOT.


A/N- ok, I have no idea **where **this came from, but here it is.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the setting of this story, they belong to **JK Rowling.** ok? Good.

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Charms. A lesson that I can pass easily. No need to pay attention. Hence why I'm daydreaming. The class hasn't started yet. A nudge from Albus brings me back to the real world.  
"What?" I hiss at my cousin.  
"_He's_ here. Look!"  
I turn with a scowl. Just my luck to have most of my classes with SLYTHERIN. Don't get me wrong, they aren't all bad. But Scorpius Malfoy is a real git. Stupid slytherin, with his smarmy expression and his super rich parents. He leaves me alone, though. I catch him staring at me sometimes, when he thinks no one's watching. Creepy. He's doing it now, as he settles at his desk. A glare from me, and he's looking in another direction. I glare at him some more. Why is he BLUSHING? Idiot. Thank goodness this is the last lesson of the day.

Maybe I'll get some quidditch practice done after. While I still can. OWLs next year. FUN. I'm not too worried, really. I have my mother's brains.

The lesson begins. And passes… Slowly. Painfully so. I mastered this particular charm last week, so I help Albus. I ignore the slytherins completely, but out of the corner of my eye I catch Scorpius staring at me again. The lesson ends, and I volunteer to clean away our resources. I like the quiet of the Charms classroom once everyone's left. The teacher trusts me, and leaves with the students, giving me my chance to practice. A flick of my wand, and I have the whole classes text books in the air around me. I spin, laughing, and stop. The books crash to the floor with my loss of concentration. A tall, pale boy is standing in the doorway, watching me. When the books fall, Scorpius comes towards me and starts to pick them up. I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself! I glare at him. He looks at me steadily, his arms full of books, and stands up slowly. He sets the books on the desk, and raises an eyebrow at me. I'm still glaring.

His eyes focused directly on me, he speaks. "Didn't your parents teach you any manners, Weasley?"  
I scowl harder, and practically spit the words out. "Thank you."  
He shakes his head, and moves as if he's going to leave, then turns back to me. "I'm sorry, but what exactly is your problem?"  
I stare at him in disbelief. "MY problem? Excuse me?"  
"Whenever you see me, you glare. I walk past you, you turn your back. I smile, you act like I'm some revolting creature that just climbed out of the lake!" He's angry now, his face colouring, grey eyes flashing. "And unless I'm very mistaken, I've never done anything to you!"  
"Well, SORRY! Why should I be nice to some stuck-up Slytherin? We aren't all pretty boy pure-bloods! Some of us work for what we have! You wave a finger, and your rich parents come running!"  
"So that's what you think."  
"Yeah, Malfoy, that's what I think." I'm standing close to him now, hands on my hips, staring him down. He glares at me, then his expression tightens to one I don't recognise. The next thing I know, he's kissing me. One of his hands comes up to cup my cheek, the other rests against my waist. I wait to feel repulsed, to be digusted and pull away, but the feeling doesn't come. Instead, my hands clench in his hair, and he presses us tighter together. Every fibre of my being is confused, sure that this should feel wrong, but it doesn't. I find that I like it, strangely enough. He doesn't kiss like people in bookS; he isn't gentle or sweet, but he isn't rough either. I want to be angry, to want to push him away, but instead I notice how my treacherous body fits so well against his.

So I stand there. Kissing a Slytherin. Kissing Scorpius Malfoy. Whoops.

He strokes my cheek once, then pulls away completely from my hold. Funny how I never noticed before how he isn't thin and gangly like I thought, but slim and muscled, with a slightly pointed face that suits him when his pale hair is tossed like that over his forehead. Funny how I never noticed what a pretty shade of grey his eyes are, or how his lips are almost full, but not quite, and soft. I stare at him a little longer, until the gentle, loving expression on his face is gone, a small smirk replacing it. He folds his arms over his chest.  
"Don't think this changes anything, Weasley."  
I grin. "I won't."  
He kisses me on the cheek as I leave. "Bye, Rose."  
I smile.

So he knows my name. So he kissed me. Doesn't change anything.  
But it does.  
Of course it does.


End file.
